The Kliq: Blood and Sand
by Alex Cloninger
Summary: Four men from different walks of life find themselves purchased as slaves, trained as Gladiators, and begin a rebellion.
1. Foreward

A Spartacus/Percy Jackson and The Olympians Crossover Fanfiction brought to you impart by Korrupt Mindz Productions. All Original Characters in this fanfiction belong to Korrupt Mindz Productions or its affiliates. There shall be no characters belonging to Starz Television Entertainment nor Rick Riordan, though any that bear resembelance or likeness to characters belonging to these two entities is entirely coincidental. Please enjoy, read, and review.

Special Thanks to the members of the Kliq without whom many of these Kliq Fics would not be possible. Larry Armstrong (TheOriginalGodMod), Aidan Collins (TheLifeofAidan), Mark Smith (creator of Kenjiro Nakamura), and myself (Alex Ruler).


	2. Chapter 1 Champion of Vesuvia

Vesuvia.  
A port city, nestled alongside the Mediterranean Sea. Its buildings of marble, stone, and wood bore decorations of splendid and valor, its people wearing the finest clothing and eating the finest foods. On this particular day in mid-May, The Marketplace was abuzz as a new slave ship had just dropped anchor and every ludus within two days ride had sent a representative to bid on the new recruits for the Gladiator Games. One ludus in particular, The House of Excellarus, had sent his son, Titus Excellarus, to bid upon the slaves.

Titus Excellarus was many things, but foolish wasn't one of them. His father, Zane Excellarus, held notable fame within Vesuvius as a champion molding dominus. Zane expected each and every slave purchased to be inspected thoroughy. Those who had what it took to take a place upon the sands were to be trained immediately. Those who didn't, were sentanced to a life of mining rare ore from beneath the ludus. Titus wore his decorative cloak, his business tunic, and marched along the streets of Vesuvius with his two favored gladiators as his bodyguards. Everywhere Titus ventured, these two gladiators were never far behind. The bronze skinned gladiator, whose dark hair fell to his shoulders, wore a full body cloak. Simple in design, it covered his entire body from head to ankle, with a hood and sleeves. The cloak hid the gladiator's long sword. His wrists adorned with jeweled leather cuffs, and upon his feet, he wore a type of sandle.

The fair skinned gladiator, with short blonde hair, also wore the same cloak, despite the weather. Beneath his cloak, the blonde gladiator was adorned with a long sword as well. He too wore the sandles and wrist cuffs.

"Slaves! Fall in line for inspection," an older man bellowed, cracking a whip.

Chained together, at the waist, about thirty slaves from different walks of life entered the marketplace. Titus settled his blue eyes upon the most impressive specimen of the lot. A bronze skinned, dark haired teenager. The teen wore nothing but a loin cloth and rabbit skin boots. Titus could tell the boy had been through struggle in his life, scars covered his upper body, his face, and chest. He was well built, yet, grimmy from the journey across the sea. The teenager's hands were binded behind his back and he was blindfolded.

"Aye! Syrion! What is the story behind the young one?" Titus asked, keeping his eye upon the child.  
"Titus Excellarus, the child is but a demon to be sold to the highest bidder in the Underworld. He is an uncaged animal that slaughtered fifteen of my finest men while trying to subdue him," the merchant stated.  
"Where did you find such a beast?" Titus asked.  
"He claimed his home in the land of the Guals. His heritage is that of the Shikyos," the merchant stated.  
"The Shikyos, huh?" Titus asked, "And the price on his head?"  
"Twelve Denari," the merchant responded.  
"Twelve Denari?" Titus shot back, "That's highway robbery,"  
"Twelve Denari is my price. Take it or leave it, Master Excellarus," the merchant stated.  
"One day I shall see your head ripped from fucking shoulders," Titus stated, despensing the coin to the merchant and taking the boy's chains.

As Titus and his two bodyguards led the young child away from the merchant, the merchant smiled evilly.

"Behold the downfall of slavery, for the prophecy so sees it," the old merchant muttered.

* * *

Titus and his two guards led the blindfolded boy towards the market, right past a construction site. The foreman in charge of construction was suddenly thrown from the scaffolding he had been standing on, by an angry worker, who leaped upon the foreman, attacking him relentlessly. Titus nodded at his tanned guard.

"Awstar, get in there," Titus stated.

Awstar quickly removed his hood and drew his sword. He snatched the young assailant by the crook of his neck and lifted him, aiming the sword's tip at the young boy's throat.

"Xerceses, Help the man to his feet," Titus stated, feeling that helping someone of lesser status than himself was beneath him.

The blonde guard grasped the foreman by the fore arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Y-Your Xerceses The Bringer of Fortunes!" The foreman cried, "I'm a huge fan!"  
"What business have you with your assailant?" Titus asked, as Xerceses did not reply.  
"He has been trouble ever since I bought him two weeks ago. The old merchant does not give refunds. The little bastard doesn't listen to orders, and barely does any work unless it involves fighting," the foreman explained.  
"How high is the price upon his head?" Titus asked, as Awstar raised an eyebrow at the teenager.

The teen Awstar held was well built for a teenager. He wore his dark hair short, and his deerskin pants had holes in the knees, but his body was built like that of a soldier.

"No one puts a price on the head of a worthless slave, mi'lord," the foreman stated.  
"I see value within his eyes. I will pay a price no higher than ten denari," Titus stated.  
"Ten denari seems fair, mi'lord," the foreman stated, greedily taking the coin as Awstar attached the new teen to the blindfolded teen's cuffs.

* * *

The crowd roared loudly as two combatants stepped upon the sands beneath them to brawl till one of them died. Seated in a special booth, surrounded by his friends and family, was Lord Pretennius Tiber Septum, the highest ranking officer in the Roman Republic. He stood as one of the gladiators fell to a mortal sword wound and silenced the crowd.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" He shouted, "Today's games concludes with a special bout between my two closest friends, who have become rivals in the Gladiatoral Games,"

The crowd erupts into loud cheers.

"This is a special occasion and will name a champion of Vesuvia, whose ludus shall recieve extra funding until the next games," Septum stated, his voice echoing around the arena, "From the House of Excellarus, hailing from the land of the Celts! He is a gladiator who has yet to be beaten in the arena! Please Welcome Aidan Kenta!"

From the right side of the arena, a gladiator appears. His shoulder length dark auburn hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. At his side are twin short swords, sheathed in the finest leather. He wears traditional leather armor that covers his entire left arm, and half of his right arm, and the upper portion of his chest and abodomen, leaving his midsection bare. Plated steel coated leather covers his legs and he wears shoes akin to native american indians. Aidan races into the center of the sands, leaping and flipping with exictement.

"Representing the House of Lecrutia, known through out the land as the Hundred Handed One, please welcome Jacques The Destroyer," Septum shouts as the crowd erupts into a roar of boos and jeers.

From the left side of the arena, a much taller and broader gladiator enters. The bald man, with tattoos covering his face, neck, and upper body, wears nothing to protect his upper body, a leather belt, and the same style pants as Aidan. He also wears thick boots. Jacques' weapon of choice is unusual for someone in the arena, as he brandishes a whip and nothing more. Aidan immediately smiles, enjoying the rush of the crowd.

"Gladiators! Today we name a Champion of Vesuvia, before we begin, Zane Excellarus would like to make a few statements," Septum states.

Zane rises, his white robes sending a glare across the arena. He is wearing a mask covering his face, no one but his gladiators have ever seen him without it. Many believe this is because Zane himself was once a gladiator but there has never been any proof of that.

"Fellow citizens and denizens of Vesuvia! The House of Excellarus beckons all that wish to partake in the Gladiatorial Games to venture to our Ludus atop Mount Hades to enroll. Our Gladiators recieve the finest training, and are known throughout the cities, arenas, and villages of our great nation," Zane exclaimed, "Take a look at my Celt! Aidan Kenta was but a small farm boy purchased with his mother and father as slaves! When he was of age, his father urged me to train him and his training began. He remains to be the only Gladiator who has yet to taste defeat in the arena. Something that only my school and one other ludus in the history of the gladiatoral games can claim,"

"Zane are you speaking of-?" Septum asked in shock.  
"Yes, Lord Septum, I am of course speaking of the House of Baittiatus, in Capua. Their undefeated Gaul is legend amongst Gladiators," Zane exclaimed, "I do believe though, that my Celt can defeat anyone including the undefeated Gaul,"  
"We all have one question, Zane," Septum stated, shocking the arena, "What became of Aidan Kenta's father?"

At this question, Aidan himself turned to look at his master.

"Damion Kenta was given a Gladiator's Honorable Death here in the arena at the hands of the Shadow of Death, Throki, the Hungarian Gladiator whom earned his freedom," Zane said, as tears filled his eyes.  
"If Aidan Kenta can win this fight with Jacques, I will arrange a contest between Throki and Aidan, so that Aidan can hope to obtain a hint of vengeance against the Hungarian," Septum stated, as the crowd erupted.

Aidan nodded before taking a fighting stance, leaving his swords holstered. He knew that drawing the blades would only serve to paint a target upon them. Jacques smiled, cracking his whip behind his back. Aidan raised his fists in front of his face as Jacques swung the whip forward. The whip wrapped itself around Aidan's right wrist. Aidan instantly grasped it with his left hand and smirked.

"A gladiator with no weapon, is no gladiator," Aidan stated, firmly, removing the whip from Jacques' hands with a simple yanking of the weapon, "Yet I remain armed,"

With that Aidan drew both of his blades and began laughing. Jacques laughed as well, which startled the crowd and Aidan.

"I knew you would be my opponent, Celt, so I came prepared for your antics," Jacques shouted, as he drew twin daggers from his boots. "Prepare to die!"

Jacques leaped forward, slashing the daggers in an "X" fashion. Aidan parried the blow, sending Jacques flying through the air. Jacques turns in mid air and lands on his feet. Stooping down, Jacques grasped a handful of sand and threw it towards Aidan.

The air suddenly seemed to feel charged with a radiant energy as the sand blew around Aidan. Aidan laughed as he leaped into the air, spinning and slashing with his blades.

"Downward Spiral!" Aidan called forth, as he slashed Jacques mutiple times, before landing gracefully.

The arena was in uproars as Aidan revelled in their cheering. Zane leaned forward in his seat, as he noticed the glowing yellow greek symbol above Aidan's head. The symbol of a lightning bolt. A symbol thought to have died with the Greeks.

"Zane, do my eyes mistaken me? Is that the symbol of Zeus the Greek God of Lightning?" Septum asked, "Does this mean what I think it means?"  
"Aidan Kenta is a demigod?" Septum's wife asked.  
"A likely answer," Zane stated, "To a question of which we have no answer,"  
"How can we obtain an answer?" Septum asked.  
"Simple," Zane said, standing. "Aidan! Strike this man down with a bolt of lightning!"

Aidan swallowed hard. He didn't known what had caused the sand to blow around him, or how his Downward Spiral technique had become so potent, but he knew without a doubt that there was no way he could produce a bolt of lightning,

"Dominus!" Aidan called up, "I fear that I cannot comply with your request! The Gods do not allow mortal men to cast forth lightning bolts,"

Zane smiled before taking his seat.

"Aidan, Just try my boy," Zane retorted.

Aidan sheathed his swords before closing his right hand into a fist. Almost as soon as his fist closed, a pure bolt of electricity stretched forth from both sides of his fist.

"How?" Aidan asked.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen! I present to you, Aidan Kenta, Champion of Vesuvia, Champion of Execellarus, and Bringer of Lightning! Strike down Jacques with your Jolt of Justice!" Zane shouted.

Aidan barely tapped Jacques with his newfound bolt, which caused the man to die instantly. Aidan opened his right fist, to watch the electricity disappear.

* * *

Titus walked the highly decorate halls of The House of Excellarus, dragging behind the blindfolded teen and the teenage rebel he had purchased in the market. His father would not find it amusing that he had only purchased two slaves to train as Gladiators, so he moved forward to Rolak, the Doctore that would be training them.

"Dominus Titus," Rolak stated, his voice deep.

Rolak was a short man, with muscles piled upon muscles. He reminded Titus of an oversized monkey. Rolak bore the Doctore armor consisting of metallic chest plate, decorated with the crisscrossed swords and helmet that made up the Excellarus Family Coat of Arms. A cape fell from his shoulder pads, and his feet were clad in cast iron boots. Rolak carried a sword across his back, but his primary weapon these days was the whip he used to control the gladiators.

"Rolak," Titus stated, "These two men are to begin training immediately while I return to market. I have one more slave to pick up,"  
"Sir," Rolak stated, "With all due respect, Dominus, these two aren't men, they are children,"  
"Rolak, Do you dare defy me?" Titus asked, arching an eyebrow.  
"No Dominus," Rolak stated, "My lord, the Slave ships have already left the marketplace,"  
"I'm going to the Underworld Market," Titus chirped, "Have the blindfolded one train with Awstar, Xercese is coming with me,"  
"Yes Dominus," Rolak stated, taking the chains that bound the two slaves.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the lands of Thrace, Maximus Claudis Thatcher, a praetor in the Roman Empire has gathered the Thracians. Thatcher is a small, but stocky man with dark brown hair and eyes that shine like emeralds. He wears the Praetor Armor, consisting of a full chest and back metal plate, a royal red cape, and pants armored with light metal that runs into his boots. Beneath his right arm he holds his helmet.

"The Roman Empire extends an invitation to the Thracians. Side with us and we can ensure you that no enemy will attack us," Thatcher was explaining. "The Getae are three days ride north of here. We can head them off and catch them unawares if we leave right now, OR we can head west to fend off the home of Throki, Shadow of Death, The Hungarians. A decision is to be made now,"

The gathering of Thracians began muttering amongst themselves. An elder stepped forward, wearing lesser robes. His long white hair fell to his shoulders.

"Why should we side with the Romans? At one point in history, you attempted to enslave us! Spartacus put an end to that!" The Old man stated.  
"You speak of King Spartacus," Thatcher mused, "Yes, the Good King of Thrace did give us reason to retreat. But he was nothing compared to your King Ruler. I give my word that we will be allies, not enemies. I hold high power within the empire. If I put words in ears, the empire listens. We need a decision about this war and we need one now,"

This caused more murmuring and chatter amongst the Thracians.

"To What End?" a voice stated, lost in the commotion.

The teenager the voice belonged to, pushed his way through the crowd. He was wearing animal skin armor, made from that of a leopard. He brandished a long sword, a bracer on his left wrist, and a bow across his shoulders.

"TO WHAT END?" He repeated himself.

The crowd silenced as the Elder stepped forward.

"Forgive his eagerness, Mi'Lord. He is a youth, allowed into our militia for aiding with several problems. He is quite skilled with both sword and bow," the Elder stated.  
"Forgive me, Elder, The Roman must answer my question. To What End? We side with the Romans now, we aid in the destruction of the Hungarians or The Getae, and what does that leave us?" the teen asked. "I have lived but for only seventeen years. Training my whole life to protect this village. To protect Thrace. Everytime the Getae come through, they burn our homes, rape our women, kill our children. And everytime we kill them all. Roman, you must promise me if we side with you, this time, Rome will help us Kill Them All!" the teen spoke.  
"Very Well. Kill Them All," Thatcher stated, smiling.


End file.
